Novice Purist
by Kunshi Sekijou
Summary: Drabbles. He counted the stars, the falling leaves and snowflakes as he counted his dreams, his possibilities. Yanagi-centric.
1. Origin

**Disclaimer: **For the last time, _Prince of Tennis_ doesn't belong to me.

**A/N: **I've been trying to compose this for a long time. I gave up once when I thought I couldn't do it. And then, the cold weather brought back old memories of the times in the past where I sat composing PoT stories. Amusingly enough, that brought back my drive.

**NOTES:** Future fic. Hinted smut. Akuto x Yanagi. Analytical lecture. Yanagi POV.

**Dedicated to all those attempting to or have attempted to live life.**

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**Origin**

**[BGM: **One Republic - "Counting Stars (guitar ver.)"**] **

Two college students sat at a deserted campsite.

It sounded like one of those jokes that started out with: "Two guys walk into a bar…" Except, it wasn't a joke; no one laughed. They mused.

It was the night of December first.

While Renji assumed his companion would gather the many friends he had made in college and hit the club on the night of his birthday, he had instead received a call and an invitation from him.

"Renji, let's go camping."

With his cell phone pressed against an ear, Renji glanced outside the window to the dim sky adhering to the meteorologist's prediction of probable precipitation.

He had agreed without countering with logical deterrence.

Now, out in the opening of autumn chill, Renji drew the fleece blanket tightly around himself even when he sat in close proximity to the fire. Beside him, Akuto had a similar blanket draped over his shoulders as he drank hot tea from a vacuum flask.

They stared at the swaying flame, like clay spinning and elongating on a pottery wheel. With each crackle they hear, pieces of burning wood shrank to specks of ember ascending to be carried by the wind in their final attempt to become the twinkling stars in the sky.

Neither of them spoke at the moment.

Renji waited for the other to begin. He knew Akuto wouldn't have invited him at such an inappropriate time, under an inappropriate climate in he didn't have anything special to say.

Aktuo kept sipping his tea in silence, as if his mind would become as clear as the liquid amber he consumed.

Finally, he dropped.

"I'm taking a leave of absence from school."

Renji turned to him calmly, as if his announcement didn't stun him as it's supposed to. But Renji knew, inside, once his body's natural defense mechanism subsided, shock would reveal itself from its hiding place to strike with an aggressive ambush.

Just like a traumatic injury. The injured person doesn't feel pain at the initial stage of the injury. That moment of peace almost becomes a promise, a guarantee that the pain following up would be excruciating.

"I thought I wanted to become an accountant, and deal with numbers for the rest of my life. Because that's what I've done all this time, till this very moment of my life**—**just deal with numbers. It's that simple. But then, I started thinking." Akuto recapped his flask and lifted his gaze to the sky, filled with twinkling stars and free of clouds carrying the snow that had been predicted to fall that night.

Renji continued listening.

"When I was little, I let my parents tell me what to do. Then, I matured, and I learned to allow numbers and data to direct my actions. Yet, in the end, I don't think anyone could simply be satisfied with being told what to do all the time. After all, whoever or whatever is telling you what to do isn't you. They can't really decide things for you, because they don't know you personally."

The other must have wanted to deliver an important lesson then. For, he lowered his gaze from the star-filled sky from above to turn to him to stare directly into his eyes. He would send the message through words and eye contact.

"Remember this, Renji. Ultimately, as you collect data and draw conclusions to better know and to define yourself more clearly, it is not so you can stay within your limits, to stay within the definition you've produced. Just as laws exist to be broken, definitions and limits exist to be surpassed. Current data exist to become the building blocks to future data."

Renji swore he had never seen the other with a more serious face.

"Don't ever let yourself be satisfied with the data, the knowledge you have at hand." He smiled. "One day, all of us will find where we truly belong. But, if we do no exploring, how would we know where we truly belong?"

Over the extent of their short college life together, they had developed a strange habit. They made love whenever they held profound conversations or discussions. The more heated their dialogue (or monologue, because sometimes Akuto-niisan liked to lecture), the more ardent their intercourse.

In the heat of the activity, Renji felt more anxious that night than any other. Maybe it was because they camped out in the open, leaving them vulnerable to the unknown. Maybe he felt the other's inevitable departure.

Then, he recalled what Akuto-niisan told him about anxiety.

_"Its abrupt appearance serves not as a tripping stone, but a warning light, reminding you to be more careful."_

So, instead of passively lying sprawled out atop the sleeping bag as the other hovered over him, he chose to wrap his arms around the other's neck as if to embrace the unknown that his heart feared.

The snow that fell that night broadcasted autumn's passing officially. He would expect autumn's return next year.

A few days later, Akuto left too. He left the city, left the country altogether. He didn't know if he could expect him to return the coming year like he could expect autumn.

After all, the other's whimsical tendencies made him an unpredictable person. Even to him. Especially to him.


	2. Beautiful Struggle

**NOTES:** Akuto ← Yanagi. Strangeness.

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**Beautiful Struggle  
**

**[BGM: **Of Monsters & Men** -** "Yellow Light"**]**

The light bulb in his desktop light burnt out before he could complete his assignment. But he didn't bother getting up to change it.

He lied in the darkness, on the wood floors, his body motionless and his mind bustling with thoughts. His eyes focused on a certain point, an abstract silhouette, in the dark as if doing so would allow his mind to concentrate on a single thought as well.

After so long, long enough for him to begin wondering whether he still stared at the darkness or if he stared at his eyelids instead, the door opened. Light became a curious child that peeked through the gap. Until the door opened completely and a figure stepped in behind the yellow light.

Renji made no move to turn towards the other, to greet him or to complain about him entering without his permission. The other stood towering over him, his eyes swiping over the battlefield of a room. Books and dictionaries lied limp like corpses. Paper, crumpled and torn with jagged edges from notebooks scattered across the table and floor like bent arrows and broken swords. Pens, pencils, erasers, the withered leaves of autumn. And he, a warrior, a samurai, who has met his ideal demise.

The entire illusionary scene became the epitome of the saying, _"Life is a beautiful struggle."_ (1)

The other knelt down beside him. He wasn't there to comfort him, wasn't there to scold him, to tell him that with his delicate nerves, he shouldn't have taken a class as intense as Creative Writing, and he shouldn't have taken a mere assignment so damn seriously.

Instead, the other simply pulled him up into a sitting position, as if he became from a defeated warrior to a rag doll whose old cotton wool stuffing could no longer support him in an upright posture.

Renji knows it's only a single semester course. He understands that being a full-time college student means that he didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on one class, let alone one assignment and obsess over its perfection. Yet, he insisted on leaving his mark on time, before he ages and before physical pain and illness and regret and apathy gets a hold of him. He wanted memories worth defending from dementia and amnesia. That once upon a time, he pursued something for passion instead of reason.

His roommate asked, "How long have you been at it?"

"From morning," Renji glanced over to the night outside the window, "till now."

"That's enough." His companion told him and picked up the mug of hot tea he brought in. "Drink this."

Renji raised the cup to his lips and drank without hesitation. Grassy bitterness spread through his taste buds**—**the typical taste of St. John's Wort (2).

When he looked at the other, he thought of how he used to quote the historian, Horace Walpole.

_"The world is a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those who feel."_

And he thought, how amusing it was that people could become from a feeler to a thinker with simple substances, like alcohol. Like tea.

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**END NOTES:**

**(1) -** Quote originally from rapper, Mos Def. Later appears in Talib Kweli's album.

**(2) -** St. John's Wort is used for emotional support. Eases anxiety and alleviates mild depression.

**EXTRA:**

[In typical romance novels]

Character A: (looks into Character B's eyes)

Character B: (looks into Character A's eyes)

(Character A and B lean toward each other; kiss)

[In typical Kunshi Sekijou fics]

Character A: (looks into Character B's eyes)

Character B: (looks into Character A's eyes)

Reader: (thinks) This is the moment...

Character A: (starts making a meaningful speech)

Character B: (sits and listens)

Reader: ...

Character A: (finishes)

Character B: (starts making another meaningful speech)

Character A: (sits and listens)

Reader: WTH?!


End file.
